Chapter 213: The Monster They Created

Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of death and mass destruction. Reader discretion is advised.

Della was sitting at the top of the tallest mountain she could find, her legs dangling off the edge. Her short, white hair danced in the wind that smelled of smoke and burning bodies.

She kicked her feet over the edge happily, like an excited child. Her eyes sparkled with far too much delight, and next to her was a large pouch.

A pouch filled with sweets she was munching on.

It’s been over three weeks. Twenty-five days to be exact since the Supreme Meeting, and since the day she had completely cut off Malachi.

Twenty-five days was enough for the wolf realm to have taken action. It was enough for them to come out looking for her, crawling on their knees for forgiveness and doing everything they could to convince her to help them find a way to get rid of the Moonfire.

They had all seen the ancient scrolls.

They all knew the truth about Rotbloods.

They all understood that Rotbloods had been killed and mistreated all these years under the wrong assumptions.

Malachi, Rowan — the New Alpha of Eclipse Crown- and Cassian had done everything to make them see the truth.

They had seen it.

They had refused to take action.

Was it pride? Ego? Refusal to believe the truth before their eyes? Doubt? Whatever it was, they knew it wouldn’t save them. And they had held onto it either way.

Even after the truth spread everywhere, nothing changed. People still insulted Rotbloods. They still used Della’s name as a topic of jest, hate and mockery. Many more had insulted the ancient scrolls, taken the truth and said that it was worthless now.

The other day, she’d watched some villagers set some scrolls that were circulating on fire. She’d watched them spit on it. It was a family of three. The woman and her husband had spat on it and had encouraged their five-year-old daughter to do the same.

Della had scoffed and disappeared again.

Wolves were already rotten. Nothing could ever change their minds. This has proven that it doesn’t matter if Rotbloods sacrificed their lives, or placed their hearts in front of wolves…they would never be seen as regular wolves. They would forever be treated as…trash.

And that is exactly why, as Della sat there munching happily on the sweets she’d stolen a day ago, the reflection of Moonfire that was spreading across the expanse of the landscape in front of her danced across her gaze.

Everything below her was burning to a crisp.

From the east, to the west, to the south and to the east looked like a garden that was blooming with blue flowers.

And oh, the sound.

It was a symphony of agony that played straight to Della’s rotting, blackened soul.

It wasn’t just the roaring crackle of burning timber, but also the chorus of the damned.

First came the collective, panicked howl — a hundred throats screaming out in sudden, disbelieving terror as the cold blue light kissed their skin. Then it dissolved into a thick, wet bedlam of coughing, choking, and shrieking.

Wolves were thrashing in the dirt, clawing at their own chests as the flame ate inward from the marrow out. Mothers shrieked for pups, Alphas roared commands that dissolved into choking gurgles as their lungs filled with ash.

It sounded like tearing silk, wet tearing flesh, and the relentless, echoing wail of a species unmaking itself.

The horror of it was absolute, and Della drank it all in like dry wine.

They should have listened.

They should have stopped, and they should have taken action. Well, even if they did come to her for help… nothing they would ever do or say could change her damned heart.

This…is the Monster they have turned her into.

After a while of listening, Della decided there was no harm in stepping closer. She dropped down from the tall mountain, and landed on both feet lightly — like she hadn’t just fallen several meters down.

She didn’t bother wearing her cloak today, and then she stepped into the chaos itself. Moonfire instantly swallowed her, but its kisses on her skin were feathery — like a soft welcome.

A wretched, wicked smile formed on her lips as she walked through the streets of Eclipse Crown Pack. Wailing wolves filled every corner around her — some were already charred completely, some were convulsing on the floor as the fire chewed them up, while others were roaring and growling at the top of their lungs, spinning around aimlessly as the fire consumed them too.

As she walked through the dark, smoky villages, she came across a small, burning hut.

The doors were open, and there were two wolves — a woman and a cub — perched in a corner as the Moonfire kept swallowing more and more of the hut. It was quite obvious that they were trapped with nowhere else to run.

The moment she saw them, recognition flashed in her memory. They were present that unfaithful day at the marketplace, the day she was beaten by the mob.

The cub was the little boy who had stoned her in the face, and the woman was the person who had given him another stone and encouraged him to throw it again.

They both looked up at her standing there. Something that resembled fragile, desperate hope shone in their eyes, and it ignited even more as Della stepped forward.

They watched as the Moonfire that was everywhere brushed against her skin, till she was standing right in front of the door.

Then, slowly, with the devilish look still in her eyes, she reached over and started to pull the open door shut.

Right before she closed it completely, she bashed in the feeling of watching the hope in their eyes turn into despair, watched as the fear swallowed their eyes again, watched as their trembling eyes reflect the fire surrounded them and the sight of her standing in front of them. It didn’t make her stop.

“Please…” The cub cracked softly, choking on smoke.

Her smile widened, and then she replied, “I once begged too,”

Then, she shut the door, dusted her hands and turned around.

Fuck them.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!